Late this afternoon while Logan was napping and Cameron was contentedly gnawing something child-appropriate on the living room floor, I prepped a nice meal for the family – well, for the family minus me. I washed and chopped broccoli, zucchini, carrots and kale so that Nick could easily wok it up and pair it with some quinoa and tempeh.
Such a nice wifey, right? That and I did want to sneak out of the house for a few to get a quick mani/pedi without any pouting or protest. My plan was to skip sit-down dinner in the name of much-in-need-of-detailing digits and be home in time for the bedtime routine. Nick’s been traveling a bit with his new job, so I knew I needed to snag this self-created window of opportunity, both for some me time and to tidy up my all-but-the-thumbs-picked-off shellac.
Keepin’ it classy over here lately.
And as if I wasn’t already feeling like an unkempt troll, it didn’t help that I happened today to be exploring the very sucessful Cupcakes and Cashmere– a fun visual treat for lovers of fashion, food and other pretty things – whose very kempt L.A.-based blogger counts chipped nail polish as one of her “fun fact pet peeves.” Girl definitely don’t got kids.
So, as my family feasted on my hand-crafted hippie meal, I raced off to the salon with my bag of raw almonds. Since I’m not anorexic, I also stopped at Jamba Juice on the way. And lo and behold, did you know they now have a special section of their menu labeled “Meal Replacement Smoothies?” Well, perf. My options were Berry Blend, Peach Mango and Strawberry Raspberry Banana. When I asked the blender boy which he recommended, his wisdom went like this:
HIM: Do you like berries or more like, mangos and peaches?
Genius process of elimination technique.
ME: Um, both. Berries more, I guess?
HIM: Well, do you like blueberries or just strawberries and raspberries?
Oh man. I guess I was on my own here. I opted for the non-discriminating berry one and was on my way.
I made it to the salon and attempted to pick my perfect spring shade. The pastel mint green was gorg, but I opted for a bright purple on my toes and a lighter periwinkle for my fingers.
As I repeatedly stuck my hands in and out of the gotta-be-bad-for-you UV light pod, I couldn’t help but overhear some interesting background banter between other customers. A few gems:
#1 (An older woman with her husband to some college-age girls): Can you please tell him that LOTS of men get pedicures?
GIRL: Oh yeah, totally. Like, all of my cage fighter friends get them all the time.
#2 (Girl getting a manicure that involved like three different colors of polish to be placed on very specific fingers): I’m not going to get my toes done in case I get drunk tonight and they get all messed up.
And also from this refined young lady:
I hope we can get backstage tonight. Last time we saw The Expendables, the opening act got me so wasted I totally passed out. They felt really bad, so they gave me like three free tickets.
Aaaaand #3 (Woman behind me talking to a friend or her manicurist, not sure which): Would you cut off your arms if you were promised wings?
WTF?! There wasn’t nearly enough acetone and acrylic fumes in this place to account for these whack jobs.
On a positive note, the nails turned out fab, and I’m pretty confident I realized the answer to the age-old Asian nail salon question.
When they’re laughing, they’re definitely laughing at us.